


Blossoms Called Innocence

by cosmicsymphony



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: M/M, and doesn't seem to understand the concept of leaving uninterested people the fuck alone, anyway hyacinthus is a sweetie and doesn't deserve what he gets, boyfriend of the year award should go to apollo, hyacinthus is a Good Big Bro, if i'm being totally honest, neither does apollo, who has no respect for personal boundaries, zephyrus is a major jealous shithead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-07 15:53:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7720753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicsymphony/pseuds/cosmicsymphony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A retelling of the love story of Apollo and Hyacinthus, featuring a Spartan babe, a sun god enamored with said Spartan babe, and one frighteningly jealous god of the west wind who won't take no for an answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> As stated in the summary, this is a retelling of the (rather tragic) tale of the god Apollo and the Spartan prince, Hyacinthus. Because there really isn't a lot of detail in the original story, I decided to take advantage of creative license and try and breathe a bit more life into it. 
> 
> Just as a heads up, there will be content in this story that may make some people uncomfortable, i.e. one character having totally nasty and objectifying thoughts about another, and I'll be sure to have a warning in the notes of the chapter featuring aforementioned content.
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> (Title comes from the poem, "Warble for Lilac-Time", by Walt Whitman)

* * *

**Hyacinthus**

* * *

 

 As a prince of the fearsome kingdom of Sparta, Hyacinthus was expected to devote most of his time to activities like swordplay, discus-throwing, wrestling, hunting little woodland creatures, and belching loudly enough to be heard from Tartarus. 

 

These were all manly activities, activities that any self-respecting Spartan youth would not think twice about partaking in. 

 

Which was why Hyacinthus had sequestered himself in the palace garden, picking at the grass directly within his reach.

 

Not that Hyacinthus didn’t enjoy the aforementioned manly activities, of course.If done in moderation, they were often excellent ways to pass the time.What irked him was the fact he would be regarded as ‘tender’ or ‘womanish’ if he did _not_ spend every waking minute of every day doing at least one of these pursuits.If he wanted to take a walk in the garden, stopping every few minutes to sniff the flowers, then he should be able to without rumors that he was ‘going soft’.However, he also doubted sitting alone, puling up grass blades and watching orange and red slowly chase the blue out of the sky, was something a nineteen-year old Spartan prince was allowed to enjoy. 

 

Hyacinthus decided the list of Things a Nineteen-Year Old Spartan Prince Was Not Allowed to Enjoy was much more extensive than the list of Things a Nineteen-Year Old Spartan Prince Was Allowed to Enjoy. 

 

“Your Highness! Is that you seated over there by those narcissi?” 

 

_Fuck._

 

A high, clear male voice destroyed the peace of the twilight, the stillness of the air, and Hyacinthus’ good mood. 

 

Before Hyacinthus could answer, the male voice spoke again.

 

“Ah, it is you! I can’t believe I didn’t instantly recognize those magnificent brown curls of yours! Would you mind if I joined you in doing, well, whatever it is you’re doing?” 

 

_Fucking fuck._

 

Of course Thamyris had found him.Of fucking course. 

 

Thamyris was a bard, the son of the musician Philammon and the nymph Argiope, and he was, quite plainly, rather taken with Hyacinthus. 

 

He had written at least a dozen melodies about Hyacinthus’ eyes alone, and Hyacinthus had no desire to inquire what other body parts Thamyris had deemed worthy of song. 

 

Hyacinthus was so consumed by his thoughts, all of which were variations of _Please, please go away_ , he barely noticed when a tall, slight young man with shoulder-length black hair plopped himself beside Hyacinthus, clutched his lyre in one hand, and ran a finger over the linings of the woodwork. 

 

“Are you enjoying the evening, Your Highness?” Thamyris asked, inching ever so slightly closer to Hyacinthus.

 

Hyacinthus inched ever so slightly away from Thamyris. 

 

“I am, thank you. Are you?”

 

“I most certainly am, now that you are beside me, my dear prince.”

 

_Now_ really. _Thamyris was just getting mawkish._

 

“Well that’s…good to hear. That is, I’m glad my company is pleasing to you.”

 

“Your Highness, nothing is more pleasing to me than being in your presence. I consider you a dearly beloved friend.”

 

Hyacinthus was very sure there was nothing platonic about writing a song dedicated to how soft and pliant the lips of one’s ‘friend’ looked. 

 

There was awkward silence between them for several long minutes, and Hyacinthus, who hated awkward silences, leaned back and stretched himself out on the cool grass.He caught Thamyris eying the muscles on his arms, though he thought it best to pretend not to have noticed. 

 

“My lord?” Thamyris asked softly.

 

“Hm?”

 

“May I play a song for you? I wrote it in your honor, and it would bring me great joy if you allowed me to sing it for you.” 

 

_Fuckfuckfuck._

 

On the one hand, Hyacinthus knew it would be horribly rude of him to decline Thamyris’ offer.It was innocent enough, and no decent person would reject a song written specifically for them.Besides, who knew how long Thamyris had worked on that song?Writing was no easy task; Hyacinthus had once tried to write a poem when he was seventeen and given up after the second line. His sister still liked to tease him about it. 

 

On the other, allowing Thamyris to perform a song that would undoubtedly have romantic content—as Thamyris’ songs always did, much as he tried to mask it—could only continue to give Thamyris the wrong idea about Hyacinthus’ feelings for him.Or lack thereof. 

 

This was not the first time Thamyris had approached Hyacinthus and asked permission to play for him.Initially, Hyacinthus had been eager to hear Thamyris’ songs, but after it became obvious Thamyris had unrequited feelings for Hyacinthus, things became much more… complicated.Hyacinthus didn’t want to hurt Thamyris’ feelings, of course not, but he also knew that any form of encouragement of the flirtatious songs could only lead to trouble. 

 

“Your Highness? Are you well?”

 

Hyacinthus jumped, startled out of his musings by the sound of Thamyris’ worried voice. 

 

“What? Oh yes, I’m fine, thank you. Now, er, what was it you asked me again?”

 

“If I might play my song for you, my lord.”

 

_Right. That._

 

“Oh, well…I mean…that is…I don’t suppose why not.”

 

Dammit _, Hyacinthus._

 

“Excellent! I do hope you’ll like it: I spent four months making it as perfect as I possibly could.” 

 

_I’ve no doubt you did. Oh, you poor man, how can I make you understand I don’t see you the way you want me to without utterly crushing you?_

 

Hyacinthus propped himself up on his elbows as Thamyris began his song.It was in praise of Hyacinthus’ benevolent character, and each time Thamyris sang of how Hyacinthus’ kindness went unrivaled, or how his famed generosity was endless, Hyacinthus felt a sharp stab of guilt in his gut.

 

When the song ended, Hyacinthus applauded, and Thamyris set down his lyre and laid beside Hyacinthus. 

 

_Oh no. Please no. Please don’t do that._

 

“Every day, I thank the gods for being blessed with such a good, sweet prince like yourself. We as your people have done nothing to deserve you, and it is with every fiber of my being that I pledge my everlasting loyalty to you.You are not only my prince but my greatest friend, and I fervently pray we maintain our relationship for years to come.” 

 

This was dangerously close to a love confession, and Hyacinthus knew he ought to get out of there as soon as he could. 

 

“Thank you very much for such kind words towards me, Thamyris, but I really must be getting back to the palace. I told my sister I would put her to bed tonight, and she’s probably wondering where I am. So if you’ll please excuse me—”

 

“May I play for you again, Your Highness? Tomorrow?” 

 

Hyacinthus stopped dead.

 

“Oh, well…”

 

“It isn’t a song about you, I’m afraid. It’s just a little piece I composed a few nights ago. Nothing particularly special.”

 

_There couldn’t be any harm in that, could there? If it was just a little musical tune on the lyre?_

 

“I…”

 

_No. You know better. It’s bad enough you agreed to this serenade. You’re trying to spare his feelings, but all you’re doing is stringing him along and digging yourself deeper into this sinkhole of guilt and pity. You’ve got to make him realize you aren’t actually in love with him, and if it means breaking his heart, then so be it. You’ll both ultimately be better off._

 

“I’m afraid I can’t, Thamyris. I’m terribly busy tomorrow.”

 

Hyacinthus might’ve told Thamyris his puppy had died, going by the look Thamyris was giving him.

 

“Oh, I see. Of, of course. I’m sure you’re very busy, what with you being a prince and all. All the same, I’m very sorry to hear you won’t be able to hear my song. Some other time, perhaps?”

 

Thamyris’ face glowed with a small bit of hope. 

 

“Maybe. Perhaps you can play it at the next banquet?”

 

“It would be my greatest pleasure, Your Highness.”

 

“Very well then. Now do excuse me, I really _must_ be going now. So good day to you, and thank you again for your sweet words.” 

 

Perhaps that last bit was unnecessary, but Hyacinthus was already beginning to feel upset with himself for blowing off Thamyris in such a poorly-thought out, pathetic way. 

 

_Terribly busy? You didn’t even bother to come up with an excuse for what you were terribly busy_ with. 

 

But another voice in his head chimed in and told him it _was_ the right decision to tell Thamyris he was occupied tomorrow.These private meetings had to stop, if Hyacinthus was ever going to successfully convey the message he only saw Thamyris as a friend and nothing more.He’d been too kind with Thamyris, and he had to stop stringing the poor man along. 

 

And it wasn’t just for Thamyris’ sake he had to begin distancing himself from the other man.For his own comfort, too, he needed Thamyris to move on from this infatuation that teetered dangerously to unhealthy adoration. 

 

It was these thoughts that occupied Hyacinthus’ mind as he made his way back to the palace.He was so distracted he forgot to bid the guards good evening, as he tried to do every night.

 

“Are you going somewhere, Cinthy?”

 

Hyacinthus turned toward the source of the voice, although he already knew who it was, for there was only one person in the world who called him that.A young girl with long chestnut hair the color of his own stared back at him, a small doll clutched to her chest.Hyacinthus felt the corners of his mouth twitch. 

 

“That’s hardly any of your business, Polyboea,” he said smugly, quirking an eyebrow. 

 

“You’re supposed to put me to bed right now. You promised!” 

 

“I certainly did, and I intend to keep that promise. Come on now, let’s get you to bed. I’ll give you a ride on my back.”

 

Polyboea rushed over to him and quite literally flung herself onto his back.Hyacinthus stumbled for a brief moment, then tucked his arms into the backs of her knees.As he felt his sister rest her head on his shoulder, Hyacinthus smiled to himself.He’d ensure she would one day be married to a man who would treat her only with complete devotion and respect, lest he want to deal with a very angry older brother. 

 

“Cinthy?”  


 

“Yes, sweet girl?”

 

“Where were you just now?”

 

“Oh, I was listening to a friend play a song for me. Why do you ask?”

 

“Was it that bard again? He’s always asking to sing for you. It’s romantic,” she mumbled. 

 

“…romantic?”

 

“Well, he’s always writing songs for you and wherever you go he usually follows. I just think it’s sort of romantic, don’t you?”

 

If even his nine-year old sister was starting to pick up on Thamyris’ feelings, it was _definitely_ time to do something about the issue. 

 

After reaching Polyboea’s room, he bent down ever so slightly to make sliding off his back a bit easier for her, and opened the door.Hyacinthus allowed the girl a few minutes of privacy to change into her sleeping garments.When she opened the door and saw his thoughtful expression—he was mulling over what she’d said about Thamyris’ actions being romantic—a confused look crossed her little face.

 

“Is everything all right, Cinthy?”

 

Hyacinthus had a feeling he knew the direction this conversation was going to go, and he wasn’t so sure he was all that keen on discussing Thamyris’ not-so-subtle love for him with his little sister.He stood for a moment in the threshold, scuffling his feet uncomfortably, before Polyboea took his hand and led him into her bedroom. 

 

“Well, _are_ you all right, Cinthy?”

 

Hyacinthus sighed and began chewing his lower lip.He didn’t know how to answer her.How could he, when he himself wasn’t even sure if he was all right. 

 

“I…well, I suppose I’ve certainly been in better moods,” he finally said.

 

Polyboea’s eyes narrowed. 

 

“Can I ask you about your bard friend? What’s his name again?”

 

“Thamyris.”

 

“Yes, him.”

 

“Well, it depends on what you want to know.”

 

Polyboea’s eyebrows drew together, as they did whenever she was thinking especially hard.

 

“How do you feel about him?”

 

This was a question Hyacinthus had been expecting, but not one he was looking forward to answering.

 

“I consider Thamyris to be a…friend, but nothing more.”

 

“If he’s your friend, why do you always look so scared whenever you see him?”

 

Hyacinthus was taken aback. _Scared?_ He didn’t think he was _scared_ of Thamyris.That was a bit too strong of a word.However, he certainly didn’t always enjoy Thamyris’ company.After giving the matter a brief contemplation, he decided the word he was looking for was ‘uncomfortable’.Yes, that was it.Thamyris made him _uncomfortable._  

 

“I’m not scared of him, Poly. He’s done nothing to me that would give me good cause to fear him. I just don’t like how he follows me around the way he does. Even we princes need time to ourselves every now and then.” 

 

Polyboea took Hyacinthus’ hand again and guided him onto her bed, where she sat in front of him, exposing the back of her head to him.It took Hyacinthus a moment to realize she wanted him to unbraid her hair for her. 

 

He rolled his eyes.It would’ve taken all but four seconds for her to just ask, but she always had to make things a bit more difficult than they needed to be.

 

How very similar they were. 

 

“If you don’t like it when he follows you around, why don’t you just tell him to leave you alone?” Polyboea asked after Hyacinthus had started on the first braid.

 

_Oh, my innocent girl. If only it was as simple as that._

 

“I know it might seem like a problem with a very easy solution, but the truth is, sometimes these situations can get a bit messy if not handled with caution. If I’d thought just telling Thamyris to leave me alone would’ve been effective, believe me when I say I would’ve done so by now.”

 

Polyboea remained silent as Hyacinthus spoke, allowing him to have his say as he gently undid the complex braids in her hair.She tilted her head back once so that she was looking at him upside down, a mischievous smile playing on her small features, and Hyacinthus gave her a playful tap on the nose in what he hoped came across as a ‘stop-fooling-around-and-let-me-finish-unbraiding-your-hair’ gesture. 

 

When he finally did finish, Polyboea stretched and released a massive yawn.She turned around and threw her arms around his neck, nuzzling him like she was four years old again. 

 

“Thank you Cinthy. I’m sorry your friend is bothering you, and I hope he stops whatever it is you don’t like. If he doesn’t, I’ll beat him into a pulp for you.”

 

Hyacinthus tried to imagine little Polyboea successfully beating _anything_ into a pulp and snorted.When she frowned at him, daring him to contradict her, he pulled her into a tight embrace and stroked her hair.She was an incredibly sensitive child, and he was deeply touched by how far she was willing to go to protect him, her older brother. 

 

“You’re a good girl, Poly, and I promise to find you a man worthy enough to call himself your husband.” 

 

“And if you can’t?”

 

“I’ll eat horse shit for the rest of my days. _Without_ honey.”

 

Polyboea giggled at him and flopped backwards onto her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin.

 

“Good night Cinthy. I love you,” she whispered.

 

Hyacinthus leaned over her and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

 

“I love you too. Sleep well, sweet girl.” 

 

As Hyacinthus left the room, he turned to look back once more at his sister and found she was already asleep. 

 


	2. Chapter Two

* * *

 

Apollo

 

* * *

 

Apollo was one of the most widely worshipped gods on Olympus, and as such, felt he was entitled to take a stroll through the gardens of a mortal without the actual permission of said mortal.He thought that as long as he did not destroy or bring ruin to the garden, he ought to be able to walk among the flowers and shrubs, brooding about his lack of a significant other, in peace.He just couldn’t understand why a god—a _god_ , a _divine being—_ as handsome, clever and talented as himself could possibly be unable to keep a partner for an extended period of time. 

Women and men adored him, literally threw themselves at his feet, begging for just one night with the lord of the sun, but they just never seemed to stick around for very long, and it was rather frustrating.So much energy put into one encounter, so much passion, only to have his one-time lover walk out on him without looking back.

 

_Well, there was one time when that sea nymph looked back, but that might’ve been because I crushed my toe against a table leg and howled in pain. If I’d been her, I’d have looked back to see what the fuck had happened to me too._

 

Apollo had never really been alone, not even before he was born.When he was young, he’d had his mother and twin sister, Artemis, for company, and not long after, he’d been invited by his father, Zeus, to live at Olympus, and it was _never_ quiet there. 

 

So when the sound of a male voice singing with great gusto reached his ears just as he was thinking about how very much he longed for just a little bit of silence, Apollo almost laughed with the irony of it.The singer certainly wasn’t _bad_ , although he was nowhere near Apollo’s level of incomparable.Apollo decided to bless this singer with his, well, blessed presence, and headed in the direction of the voice.

 

He eventually came upon a young man with long black hair that skimmed the tops of his shoulders, and now that he was finally in the man’s presence, he figured he might as well start paying attention to what he was singing _about_.Apollo seated himself on a large, flat rock and closed his eyes, allowing the singer’s deep, rich voice to overtake him. 

 

It didn’t take long for Apollo to determine the subject of the tune was a young man, a prince no less, whose kindness was a miracle in itself.Apparently, this boy was sweeter than honey-dipped bread and gentler than sunbeams kissing the bare skin of the earthbound.

 

_Which is awfully gentle. I should know; I deal with sunbeams all the time._

 

The more this singer praised the prince’s virtues, the more Apollo found himself wanting to meet this young man for himself.Which was why Apollo cleared his throat six times in order to interrupt the singer without being too obvious that he was interrupting him. 

 

“Oh gracious! You startled me!” the man cried, clutching at his chest as though his heart had chosen to give up on him then and there. 

 

“Terribly sorry about that, but my throat was feeling rather itchy. I’m sure you understand, what with all the strain you must put on yours with your…quite tolerable singing.”

 

The man looked affronted at this comment, and Apollo hurriedly backtracked. 

 

“What I meant was, your singing is very good for a mortal.”

 

The man’s expression shifted from deep offense to utter bewilderment. 

 

Apollo sighed.This, he supposed, was what he got for visiting the mortal world.

 

“My gentle friend, I am Apollo, god of the sun, medicine, poetry, prophecy, and music.”At this last word, Apollo quirked an eyebrow at the singer, whose eyes grew round as discuses. 

 

“My—my lord! What an honor it is to stand in your holy presence!”Inhaling with what Apollo took to be a great effort to contain himself, the young man bowed so low the tips of his hair brushed the ground. 

 

At the man’s words, Apollo bristled with pleasure.Shallow though it may be, he did have a rather unfortunate weakness for flattery. 

 

“I am Thamyris, son of Philammon and Argiope, bard to King Amyclas, companion to Prince Hyacinthus.” 

 

_Companion. Now what exactly could Master Thamyris mean by_ that _? The definition of ‘companion’ changes with context. For one, I consider my mother one of my companions, but I also called Coronis a companion, and the activities I did with her are_ vastly _different than the ones I do with my sweet mother._

 

“Companion, Master Thamyris? There are a few ways that could be interpreted. Do you mean he is your companion in the way young children are companions to each other and the relationship is a platonic one, or he is your companion in that the two of you…tumble around in bed.”

 

Thamyris’ face flushed a brilliant shade of red at the final comment. 

 

“Unfortunately, the prince and I are not companions of the flesh. Not yet, at least. I myself am fiercely in love with him but have yet to reveal the depth of my feelings. The prince sees me only as a friend, but I believe that with enough subtle wooing, I will finally be able to win his heart.” 

 

“This Hyacinthus you speak of: is he the same boy you praised so highly in your song?”

 

Thamyris nodded vigorously. 

 

“Where might I find this prince, Master Thamyris?”

 

“At this time I expect he’s gone inside the palace to sleep. He always rises before dawn to do his daily exercises and thus puts himself to bed at a fairly early hour. If you come back tomorrow, I’m sure you’ll be able to see him then. If I may be so bold, my lord, why do you wish to meet him?”

 

Apollo clasped his hands together and huffed, as though Thamyris had just asked him a particularly stupid question. 

 

“You say he exercises every day? That must surely mean he is a dedicated athlete, and I might be able to offer him some advice on how to perfect his overall technique.”

 

This seemed to be a good enough answer for Thamyris, as he pursed his lips and nodded, smiling at Apollo. 

 

“I’m sure the prince would be extremely flattered that you chose him to be your…exercising partner?”

 

“Something like that, yes.”

 

Thamyris gazed at Apollo for a few moments before he awkwardly excused himself, saying it was getting dark and he ought to be heading to bed.As Apollo watched Thamyris amble off, he decided his next course of action would be to return to the palace in the morning and ask Thamyris to introduce him to Prince Hyacinthus.Apollo considered it bad form if he simply showed up in Hyacinthus’ room unannounced and introduced himself.That was a very Zeus-like move, and Apollo had no desire to behave like a miniature version of his father. 

 

_Father. Oh fuck, I should have been back on Olympus hours ago! He was going to give me a lecture about…something…_

 

While he was one of his father’s favorite children, even Apollo knew he couldn’t get away with missing ‘a grievously important lecture’ from Zeus.Only Athena could do that, and as he was not his gray-eyed sister, Apollo figured it would be best to prepare himself for a great deal of shouting and possibly a lightning bolt or two flying about. 

 

Squeezing his eyes tightly, Apollo thought of where he wanted to be: Olympus, specifically the throne room.There was a loud _whoosh_ , a brief flash of brilliant golden light, and Apollo found himself a moment later staring into the eyes of his father, Zeus, official king of the gods and unofficial king of infidelity. 

 

“Where _were_ you?”His father’s voice reverberated menacingly about the room, and Apollo realized that if he wanted to be spared a tirade he had to give his father a good reason why he missed his lecture.A reason his father would not only accept, but personally understand.And he knew just what he could say. 

 

“I was making love.”

 

Zeus’ eyes, which had been narrowed in anger and suspicion, softened minutely. 

 

“Were you now?”

 

“I was making love with a prince. A very handsome prince too, might I add, Father. We were making love so passionately I completely lost all track of time.”

 

“Yes, that can happen, when one is in the throes of particularly enthusiastic lovemaking. There was one time, I believe, when I was with Mnemosyne, we—”

 

“Father, I’m very sure whatever you did with Mnemosyne was wildly passionate, but wouldn’t it be better to tell me about it some other time? Surely you must need to get some rest?” 

 

“Yes, but not now. I’m waiting until your sister comes to bid me good night.”  
  
“You are speaking of Artemis, Father?”

 

Apollo loved his father dearly, but he could not turn a blind eye to Zeus’ shocking (even for a god) amount of infidelities.Apollo had many siblings from many different women, and he often lost track of them all. 

 

Zeus nodded.

 

“She’ll be along, I’m sure of it. In the meantime, I’m going to go to bed myself. I’ll see you in the morning, Father.”

 

“You’d better tell me about this prince of yours when you get the chance, boy.”

 

Apollo mumbled that yes, of course he would discuss his sex life in rich detail as soon as the opportunity arose, giving his father a quick inclination of the head before exiting the room.He was fervently hoping to reach his room without running into anyone else who might be overly curious about his unexpectedly long absence. 

 

It wasn’t that he was _embarrassed_ he’d missed Zeus’ lecture.Oh no: Zeus was notorious for his long-winded talks, and they were dreaded by all of his children.No, Apollo simply didn’t want to be put in a position where his family and fellow Olympians could discover he was allowing something as silly as loneliness to affect him the way it would some simpering mortal. 

 

Apollo paused.Was that really what he was so distressed about?He was _lonely_?He’d told himself it was merely the lack of physical intimacy that he was missing, and he’d refused to entertain any other notions.Licking his lips, Apollo continued the walk to his bedchambers, contemplating this new, unwelcome idea.He was not only an Olympian god, but one of the most powerful Olympian gods, certainly the most powerful of his father’s children.He was never far away from a beautiful nymph or two.Apollo had no reason to be plagued by such a trivial emotion. 

 

And yet. 

 

_Don’t be so foolish. You are the god of the sun, the most important Olympian next to Zeus himself. What business do you have moping about because of some ridiculous, mortal emotion? You don’t. Now banish such thoughts from your mind and stop acting like a pathetic, piddling wretch!_

 

The door to Apollo’s room was painted a shimmering, cheery gold, as were the walls and floor, and after an especially bad day—satyrs were almost always involved somehow—Apollo often had to only glance at his magnificent room for his spirits to be lifted.This entire day, however, was probably the worst he’d had in over fifty years, and not even the sight of the glistening walls of his bedchamber could get a smile out of him. 

 

He wondered, suddenly and to his own surprise, if this Prince Hyacinthus could make him happy.If this young, handsome man might be able to alleviate his sorrows, if only temporarily.That was the trouble with mortals; they were here one day and gone the next, it seemed.In fact, this was the main reason Apollo tried to avoid relationships with humans that would lead to attachment, followed by a retreat into grief-stricken solitude when they died.However, Apollo _was_ a shallow type of being, and if the human was attractive enough, well, a few passionate tumbles certainly couldn’t hurt.

 

After slipping off his sandals and covering himself with a single blanket, Apollo closed his eyes and allowed himself to imagine what this Hyacinthus might look like.He envisioned a slender young man with golden curls perhaps a shade darker than his own, with creamy skin and a small, bashful smile.A smile that might be just for him. 

 

It was with these thoughts drifting through his mind that Apollo fell into a peaceful, dreamless slumber. 

 

* * *

 

Perhaps it was because he was the sun god and thus had no qualms about rising early, or perhaps it was because he was extremely eager to be introduced to Prince Hyacinthus, but Apollo found himself wide awake at the break of dawn.He stretched and, after hearing an unpleasant _crack_ , threw himself out of bed and scoured his closet for the red chiton he favored whenever he wanted to look both powerful and elegant.Apollo was a very firm believer in first impressions, and told himself that he needed to act and look the part of a grand sun god if he was to succeed in wooing the prince. 

 

Dousing his face with cool water, Apollo paused to admire himself in a small hand mirror.He really was by far the handsomest god on Olympus and simply couldn’t envision a scenario in which Hyacinthus was not won over by his good looks.Unless of course the prince did not find blond, muscular, lyre-playing men attractive.Then he’d have to alter himself, much to his annoyance—he hadn’t changed his appearance in over thirty years for a lover and he wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of doing so now—and acquire a new instrument if Hyacinthus did not enjoy the sound of the lyre.Pipes, perhaps.He had a set of pipes in his room that he’d stolen from Hermes, who’d stolen them from the satyr, Pan.Truth be told, it had been several years since he’d last played the pipes, but being the god of music meant he was blessed with the ability to pick up absolutely any instrument and play it with the skill and ease of an expert. 

 

Feeling his confidence return, Apollo set the mirror down and closed his eyes, envisioning the garden he’d encountered Thamyris.There was a slight tingling sensation throughout his body, then a brief but powerful feeling as though he’d been shocked.Not a moment later, Apollo smelled sweet, fresh air and a hint of the salty tang of the ocean.He was back in the royal gardens of Amyclas.As Apollo looked around, Thamyris—much to his dismay—was nowhere to be found. 

 

Apollo was filled with fury, as it now appeared that Thamyris had made a fool out of him, when he caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye.A young man who looked about nineteen was running among the pathways of the gardens, weaving in between the flower bushes.His hair was dark and thick, curls Apollo thought would be very pleasing to run his fingers through.Overall, he was tan and muscular, and the tunic he wore now surely hid an attractively toned physique, if his arms were anything to go by.There was an elegant lope to his stride that reminded Apollo of a well-seasoned hunter, and he found himself utterly transfixed. 

 

After Daphne had spurned his advances, Apollo had sworn he would never again let himself fall prey to love, but this human prince held him spellbound in a way he hadn’t known possible.Those long limbs, that steady determination in his eyes, the faint smile on his face, all filled Apollo with fascination, a yearning to get to know this prince, to see him smile that secret smile only a lover ever knows. 

 

When the prince stopped to catch his breath, Apollo moved to advance toward Hyacinthus and introduce himself, when a breeze tousled his hair.Apollo glanced up, and, perched on the branch of an olive tree, was the winged god Zephyrus, lord of the west wind. 


End file.
